Thatch
by PallaPlease
Summary: [Will/Jocelyn.  Post-movie.]  After all, Jocelyn *did* fall in love with a Thatcher, by trade as well as name.  Reviews are welcome.  [Complete]


Notes: My goodness! It's a fic that ISN'T Will/Kate! *insert heavy sarcasm* A marriage fic. Don't like Jocelyn? Then don't bloody read. Sorry, about to rant here - it's really absurd how people keep writing her as a vapid, mindless girl who is obsessed with money and fashion and that, no, she does not *really* care about William, when the movie - if not outright saying "LOOK, MODERN WOMAN!!!" - at least strongly hinted the complete opposite. Anyone wants to bicker or commiserate, I'm open at WolfHowlN2@aol.com.  
  
Set: After the movie by more or less two years.  
  
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Thatch  
  
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"Will, far be it for me to criticize you," she started pleasantly, cupping a hand over her eyes as she tilted back to look at the cheerful figure of her husband on the barn-shed's roof, "which of course I would never do, but what on earth are you doing?" Jocelyn wrinkled her nose, sidestepping a large clump of thatch that he tossed mock-accidentally at her, and blinked at a drop of rain that slid past her hand to her eyes. "On the roof," she added, just to make sure she was not imagining things.  
  
"Well," he replied in a tone that was mischievously happy - he was tearing small fluffs of aged straw out of the thatch layer and flicking them absently at her. "I was out, minding my own business, tryin' to get that godawful horse," he inclined his head at the black steed that was at one point Adhemar's, muzzle grazing peacefully in the thick grass by the side of the cart-road, "to move, and then it started to rain." He squinted and glanced at the sky, fingers picking idly at a long golden stalk and mouth pursing at the drizzling grey French clouds above them.   
  
He resumed, after a moment, dusting the remnants of the stalk from his hands, "Then Ethan here," a cherubic looking boy with shaggy black hair poked his head out of the small shed and smiled innocently at her; she smiled back; "told me there was a leak in the shed, and, well," William shrugged amicably. "One thing led to the next, and there you have it: I'm on the roof." He nodded, as though cementing this truth, and whistled futilely at the steed as it, showing the same bored indifference they had received from it over the past two years, milled pointlessly to a tree near the cart-road and began knickering at the bark. "Stupid bugger," he muttered; "I swear I've wasted half a year trying to get 'im to listen to me." He lifted his sodden tunic sleeve to his nose hastily, muffling a short sneeze.  
  
"You'll catch your death of cold," she said pointedly, and brushed a long clump of her black hair - even curlier in the recent humidity - from her neck. "And I have little use for a dead husband." The rain began to plummet a little harder, thumping against her hair and soaking slowly through her muddied skirts; she ignored it, and gave him a meaningful look, the meaning of which was not lost on him.  
  
"And what use have you for me, then?" he asked innocently, batting his eyes at her in a fine imitation of her sister, and she raised an eyebrow. "I joust and I help with the cooking," Ethan, who had apparently suffered through the few evenings William had done a great deal of cooking, shuddered tellingly and ducked back into the shed, "I *never* track mud in, I don't mind when you argue politics, *and*," he paused for dramatic effect, giving her a hard-fought for serious expression, "I can fix thatch." Triumphantly, he spread his arm out in a general gesture, and she could not help but to smile.  
  
"A thousand and one uses from you, William," she said gravely, though she continued to smile. "Not the least of which is your ability to mend a roof and hit people with large sticks." It's a *lance*! - said Wat grievously in her mind; it was a running joke of sorts between her and the redheaded walking temper, though half the time she was not quite sure if he was aware it was a joke. "But nonetheless, William, you have only recently recovered from your cough; and what with tournament season opening soon, I'd think you wouldn't want the risk of ailment upon you again."   
  
"If I get the cough again, I promise I'll share it with you." He smiled winningly, rubbing his sleeve under his broad nose and sighing, his breath fading into the thick drizzle that was growing into a steady rain.  
  
"Don't bother, love," she snorted, and scooped her skirts up carefully in her arms. "Scoot over," Jocelyn ordered, slushing through the thin layer of mud between the cart-road and the shed. "I shouldn't like to fall through the roof, and we won't fit if you can't move over." Carefully, she positioned the leather padding of her small shoe on the brick windowsill, half-jumping to catch her hands on the harsh edge of the thatch roof.  
  
"I wouldn't mind letting you sit on my lap," he offered in a cozy voice, grabbing her wrists and helping to haul her up. "Although," William added clinically as she wobbled slightly, bending over the roof and muddied skirts cast around her shins; Ethan, he thought sourly, was doubtless getting a wonderful view of her drawers, "I'm not too sure it would be comfortable. For me, at least." With an audacity he generally left to Wat's usage - the only one, she had noticed, who was daft enough to 'aggressively' approach the feminine gender - and a charming grin, he reached back, knowing full well she was balanced precariously, and pinched her firmly on her rump. "Love your arse!" he added happily as she shrieked.  
  
"William!" she sputtered, knees buckling in reflex to avoid the sharp pinch, and she was forced to grab onto the nearest stable thing - being his head - to avoid falling. "You can't do - oh, my shift is ripping!" Her hands flew from his head to her back, trying to hold that vital part of a woman's undergarments together while not falling, and he pushed aside his urge to laugh, easing to the side and pulling her with him. When she had recovered her balance and a few shreds of her dignity, she cupped her overwhelming black curls behind her ear, trying to keep a ladylike expression of thoughtful aloofness.  
  
William leaned forward and blew an airy kiss against the side of her neck, and she giggled convulsively, shoulder rising up in defense. "I do love your arse, though," he added reflectively after a moment as she closed her eyes, dreaming, and he stared seriously at her. "I love all of you, even when you're being silly."  
  
"And I love all of you, even when you're being stupid," she replied just as solemnly.  
  
He grinned in return and leaned in to kiss her as she smiled coyly; his foot had a different opinion and fell with the ominous sound of ripping thatch through the roof, begetting a wicked smile from Jocelyn, a sheepish grin on his part, and a startled-out-of-his-wits shout from Ethan in the shed.  
  
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End!  
  
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Feedback: Very appreciated, but flames are not. :] Again, direct all negative complaints to WolfHowlN2@aol.com.  
  
Disclaimer: Owned by someone I am not; if I did own AKT, you can wager I'd have given Jocelyn and Kate longer on-screen time, as neither one was developed half as much as they should have been. Sorrow and sadness. 


End file.
